Arguing. It's what they do. Wes and Travis, bickering, just another day at the precinct. Until it isn't. Until Travis storms off to prove he's right- no dancing involved this time, just hurt feelings and grim solo stakeouts which never end well, especially when someone's worked up and angry.
So Wes, despite how annoyed he is, might catch on with a carefully worded remark from the Captain that he was a little... rough with his partner, and go to keep an eye on the most impulsively annoying man he's ever met in his life. Which is a good thing because he gets there in time to see Travis dragged out of the hotel room in handcuffs, the prison guard and Lisa leading him to the trunk where they probably plan on stuffing him for awhile.
Wes takes a breath and runs out, gun at the ready, ordering them to stop. In the melee that follows, Lisa gets away but between he and Travis, the prison guard is handled. "Go!" Travis orders him, not bothered in the slightest that he's still handcuffed. The guard is dead to the world, seemingly, and everything appears calm, Travis kicking his gun out of his reach.
Somehow the authoress thinks she can out drive him, only succeeding in crashing her car a little ways away when she freaks out during their little game of chicken. He pulls up quickly and drags her out of the car, bleeding and sore but fine and ready for her own little pair of bracelets... when Wes hears a familiar sound- one simple little gunshot. He pales and finishes snapping one of the cuffs on her before throwing her into his car, attaching the other to the emergency bar by the window. He doesn't even look back as he slams the door shut and goes running full tilt back to the hotel. "Travis!"
He skids to a stop, shaking his head- Travis is sprawled on top of the prison guard, neither man moving. "No, no, what happened?" he mutters, seeing the gun once more only a few inches from the guard's twitching hand. He kicks it out of range again before rushing over. Travis, he thinks, the echoing gunshot still fresh in his mind. "What happened?!" he repeats, turning him over and purposely pressing his knee down on the prison guard's ankle to keep him in place as he kneels down to look over his partner.
Travis' eyes flutter as he stares blankly at the night sky. "Guess I didn't have it like I thought," he chokes out, blood staining his shirt and only spreading further as Wes watches. "Ow."
"Ok, alright." He leans over and presses down on the wound, relieved to find that it's close to Travis' shoulder and nowhere near his vital organs. "You're gonna be alright. Besides you have to do another I was right dance, right? Stupidest thing I'd ever seen," he teases lightly, trying to distract the trembling man from the pain. "You tackled him and he shot you or...?" He tries to regain his composure, keep things calm between them even as the blood continues to flow, slicking his hands up and making it hard to keep a hold on Travis and keep an eye on the unconscious prison guard. Thankfully he can hear sirens in the distance and knows if he only holds on for a few minutes longer, everything will be fine.
"Nah, man," Travis breathes out, still struggling to keep conscious. "I saw 'im moving but before I could get to 'im, he scrambled and had the gun, then shot. Then I tackled him."
"You couldn't have done that before he got off the shot?" Wes smiles a little, the moment ruined as Travis forgets and tries to shrug, a fresh wave of pain cutting off whatever he's about to say. "Hey, never mind. I'll tell Captain, he'll lecture you later for me."
"Wasn't my fault, y'all's crazy driving distracted me," he mutters, not catching Wes' eye. He'd never admit that the split second he had given the prison guard to regain control of the gun had come when he'd heard the car crash and spun around to make sure it wasn't Wes.
Even so, his eyes soften as he looks down at his bleeding partner. "Of course, it's all my fault," he snips, no heat behind his words. "Look, the calvary's here." He's relieved to be able to move away from the prison guard and let the other officers slap cuffs on him, collect Lisa and get them out of there so EMTs can work on Travis in peace.
"He's gonna be fine," Wes tells the Captain a few hours later. "Had to remove the bullet and he'll be in a sling for awhile, but there was no lasting damage done."
"Good, good. Tell him we'll be by later to check in on him, make sure he's not getting too comfortable looked after by all of those nurses." Wes chuckles along with the older man, nodding against the phone.
"Will do. See you then."
He clicks his cell phone shut before returning to the hospital, walking along the maze of corridors and hallways until he finds Travis' room, slipping back inside. He's awake, idly flipping channels on the TV and, if not for the machines monitoring his vitals and the fresh white gauze visible against his skin underneath his hospital gown, he'd look completely normal. "So how many nurses have you tried flirting with in the five minutes I was gone?"
"The only nurse I got while you were gone was a male nurse," he comments, frowning up at him. "What'd you say to them?"
"Who says I said anything?" he replies, trying to look innocent as he drops down in a chair next to Travis' bed, glancing at the TV for a minute. "So I'm told, everything goes well, you'll probably get released tomorrow."
"Great," Travis sighs. "I miss my bed."
Wes nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, um. If you need anything- I mean, I guess I could..." He frowns, his thoughts not coming out right. "The doctor asked if you had anyone to stay with you for the first few days."
Travis' laugh is rough and a little bitter, the memory of their argument during therapy still fresh in his mind. "I'll be fine, Wes. Don't even worry about it."
Wes sits silently for a few moments, watching him as he turns his attention back to the TV. "Travis, come on-"
"You know why my place is always so spotless?" he asks out of nowhere, startling Wes into silence. When his partner shakes his head uncertainly, he sits up, his good hand curling into a fist. "'Cause I knew that all of the foster homes and everywhere that I grew up in was temporary, so it was no big deal there. But when I got a place of my own, yeah, I was proud of it, so I worked on keeping it clean. That's all."
Wes takes a deep breath, feeling even worse for how he had laid into him in front of everyone. "I see," he finally murmurs. "It makes sense." They sit in awkward silence for awhile longer before Wes tries again, sensing that the tension has faded slightly. "If you do need help while recovering though-"
"I know who to call," he says simply, glancing over at Wes for a moment before turning back to the TV. They might not work as roommates, per se, but they're still partners. They will always have each other's back.